#when I need naja and zaire fluff

[thescarsilivewith-if]

I originally meant to write a fic Naja’s and Zaire’s first night together but I got kind of stuck so I hope my somewhat incoherent and inconsistent outline will do instead. I’ll probably jump tenses a lot coughs. As always, the scenes were a lot sweeter in my head and it’s extremely unpolished. I hope you’ll still enjoy this.

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Let’s set the scene. The day filled with celebration, one of many, is finally over and it’s time for Naja and Zaire to commit to the marriage in a more physical sense. It was draining for both of them, full of nerves and they didn’t manage to share more than two brief interactions together before someone interrupted them. Throughout the day, Naja had watched as Zaire has been dragged back and forth, from one group to the next, has watched him smile and converse, sometimes hesitate and grow more cautious. Has watched him pause and consider, his face an open book. Not exactly a good trait for a ruler to have, they think, but they find themself oddly charmed in spite of that. All their life, Naja has experienced blunt, callous honesty. People sneer and call them stupid, call them a pretty face hiding an empty head. The only thing Naja needs to know is how to keep their mouth shut and their legs spread for this marriage to work out, according to those very same people.

There was always an ulterior motive. Always something people tried to gain by using Naja in whichever way they pleased. 

It has made them wary and the first time they met Zaire, they searched his face for any hidden intentions. He’d been smiling back then, eyes crinkling slightly. His shoulders had been tense, straining slightly beneath the dark cloth covering them. His hand, when he had gripped Naja’s fingers and brought them to his lips in a very chaste and formal kiss, had been clammy. But what Naja truly remembers from that moment is this: Zaire looking at them from beneath his lashes, concern and warmth in his gaze. A quiet care Naja hadn’t seen in anyone in… They don’t think anyone has looked at them like that in years. 

If Zaire was concealing an agenda, poorly, it consisted of wanting Naja to feel welcome.

Which in itself was a novelty and Naja spent some hours examining this from all angles, trying to find loopholes, trying to find reasons. Zaire must want something, too. 

If the way he’d quietly lit up, his entire expression brightening, when Naja smiled at him, was anything to go by, it was that he truly wanted Naja to feel comfortable and accepted.

An odd realization.

And it makes their heart flutter, a weirdly heated experience. 

Was this what it was like to be wanted? They didn’t want to let their guard down, they couldn’t, they had to learn about their new reality first and yet…

Knowing they’d spend the night with Zaire fills them with prickly anticipation.

Fast forward a little, to them being alone together for the first time, period. All servants have gone after helping the couple undress, incense and candles have been lit and the bedding checked one last time.

And Zaire runs his hand over the long hair spilling over his shoulders, finally free from the braid, sighs and turns to Naja. There’s grim determination on his face, or is it resignation? In the darkness of the room, it’s difficult for Naja to discern. He’s enunciating carefully and his hands are moving along with his words, signing, and it would make Naja smile if not for the words coming out of his mouth: “I do not wish to sleep with you.”

Ice drops like a brick in Naja’s stomach and they freeze and questions begin to swirl. Why? Why does Zaire not want to sleep with them? Are they unappealing, unattractive? Did they do something? Did they offend someone important? Does Zaire think that he married a dimwitted fool after all?

Is this where the other shoe drops?

Is this where Zaire comes to the realization and finds Naja lacking, inadequate? Is this where the fairytale sweetness ends? 

Naja’s hands shake as they grip one another, clench and unclench before they are able to still them.

Zaire is watching Naja, golden eyes searching them for who knows what. His gaze falls to their hands and his expression drops. He swallows thickly, lips parting as his eyes dart to the left, then to the right, before he reaches out.

“May I?”

May he what, Naja thinks with some exhausted acceptance. Begin to treat Naja like a pretty doll to be placed on a shelf? They don’t respond, just tilt their head like they’ve done so many times and blink at their husband.

Zaire waits a little longer before his hands fall to his sides. He seems frustrated and he sits down heavily on the bed. Their bed. Their marriage bed.

“I think I’m going about this all wrong,” he whispers and drags a hand over his face. Suddenly, he seems as exhausted and lost as Naja feels. The elaborate golden mask Zaire's worn through most of the day had hidden it before and the flickering shadows cast by the candles don’t seem to be helping matters because there are deep, dark circles under Zaire’s eyes. 

Here they are, two lost fools.

“I’m sorry. I think I’ve offended you and I didn’t mean to. I’ve thought about how to break this to you all day but I couldn’t come up with a less straightforward but kinder way to say it to you. I think you are very, very beautiful and I consider myself lucky to call myself your spouse.”

Whiplash. Zaire is giving Naja whiplash. He doesn’t want to sleep with them and yet here he is, complimenting them and– Is he… blushing? He is. His tone is exhausted and his shoulders are drooping and his face is red. He’s trying to meet Naja’s eyes but is failing.

“But we don’t know each other very well. I think you were strong-armed into this marriage and I don’t want to do anything either of us is uncomfortable with.” There’s a pause before Zaire’s gaze finally meets Naja’s. What they find there is warmth, openness and vulnerability. A sweet consideration.

And they come to the unsettling realization that the nobles have been attempting to eat this softhearted man ever since the crown was placed on his head and a scepter pressed into his hand.

“Our circumstances aren’t ideal. Before anything happens between us, I’d like for us to get to know each other. I’d like to show you who you’ve married. What kind of person I am. And I’d like to learn more about you, too. About what you like and dislike. About how I can help you make a home here, in the palace. And then I’d like for us to decide together what our future is going to look like. I…”

Zaire flounders before reaching out again and holding his hands out to Naja. Patient. Kind. Nervous. His fingertips are trembling. His eyes are wide and he's breathing a little bit too fast.

“I know it’s a selfish request. And I am truly, deeply sorry. But please. Please, can you tell me what you want?”

And Naja–

Naja reaches out and takes his hands. 

This... this was insanely good. Naja's just perfect and Zaire is a gift to this world. That "I do not wish to sleep with you" was my absolute favourite moment.

This is exactly what I meant when I said that Naja doesn't have boundaries. When overwhelmed, they won't ever express their discomfort, preferences or hurt. But with a nurturing Monarch, this is what could happen.

#vividescapist #copied it for future reads #when I need naja and zaire fluff #ahh thank you for sending this in #i obviously always love content related to the game #if anyone else wants to join feel free to do so even with a scenario #ro: naja #fanfiction #tsilw fanwork